


Untouched by Man

by Anonymous



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Idk it's weird, M/M, Treize is perving on wufei, Virginity or Celibacy Kink, but it's like from a distance, he doesn't get his hands on wufei, treize is weird though, wufei is a virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: AU where OZ won and ESUN was never reformed under Relena. The Gundam Pilots are sentenced to 10 years supervised monitoring with trusted parties. Wufei went to Treize.6 years into the sentence, Treize buys out Duo's guardianship, and Duo learns what he's been doing with Wufei all this time.





	1. Chapter One

Technically Hilde is Duo's guardian the first six years after the war, and it drives Duo crazy, yeah. Being owned, being someone else's responsibility. But there's no machine to rage against, and if he starts causing trouble around the shop, or messing up orders, or picking fights with the drunken shits that populate the asshole of L2, it'll only cause more trouble for her.

Duo doesn't want to cause trouble for Hilde. 

Hilde, who won't tell him how far she went into debt to get the rights to his name, who still blushes and holds her breath when she puts a new dish she's trying out for the first time in front of Duo for his opinion. So, he's a good little pet. He helps around her shop, he builds and tinkers and dismantles, he goes on errands and he doesn't make a fuss.

He knows he's lucky. They all got _insanely_ lucky. Stupidly lucky.

Quatre is with his sister(s?), Trowa is with his sister(?), and Heero is, of course, with Relena. 

Hilde, with all the sweet obliviousness in the world, arranges them to spend time together, and their respective owners are happy to go along with it, somehow unaware that such well-meaning condescension is more humiliating for their charges than mistreatment. Having playdates arranged for them. 

It's more freedom than they ought to have been given, but the collars and leashes, though invisible, are a weight none of them can ignore.

Wufei is with Treize. 

Duo hasn't seen him since the war, outside of propaganda posted from ESUN, though even that's pretty rare. If the event is ostentatious enough, Wufei will be seen at Treize's side, but usually a vague figure, in ridiculously ornate formal wear, kept in the back. His features are always obscured by a large umbrella or hat, and Duo's sure it's a body double. Treize nearly says it outright in one interview, talking about how he takes his role as a guardian seriously, and would not take risks with his charge's life. 

Duo thinks he's probably telling the truth, or at least his version of it. 

The Long Clan has been pooling money for ages, attempting to buy out Wufei's guardianship, but even the obscene offers they've made haven't been enough for Treize to give Wufei up. Whatever value Wufei's life holds to Treize, it's something that can't be bought with cash and he doesn't look keen on giving it up any time soon.

The sentence from ESUN was ten years in custody before the infamous child soldiers, terrorists, Gundam pilots, could be released to their own whims into the universe, and Duo is going so stir-crazy, caged and furious with no direction to point it that when the news comes that Treize has made an attempt to buy Hilde's ownership on Duo it's actually exciting. Something to do. A mystery to solve. A machine he can rage against. 

Hilde fights Treize's offer, but there's not much she can do after Duo forges her acceptance. She's hurt, and furious, and does not understand, but accepts his wishes to have a cage that actually looks and feels like a cage. 

Treize is waiting at the port when Duo lands, with a six person entourage. He smiles, hands behind his back, watching as Duo's escort switches off the restraints with ones of his own. Duo stares back, looking the man over. As a teenager, Treize had been an intimidating, imposing figure, looming over him. Duo knows he's grown, he's stood head and shoulders over Hilde for a while now, but this new measurement against Treize is a surprise. Duo thinks his own shoulders might actually be broader, and feels a smirk spreading across his face.

"What, you don't trust me?" Duo asks, wiggling his wrists in Treize's restraints.

"An ounce of prevention, Mister Maxwell," he says, smiling softly. Still, he lets him sit across from him in the limo on the ride over, and offers champagne, like any proper rich, sociopath villain. 

"I understand you've been working as an extra hand in young Miss Schbeiker's shop," Treize says.

Duo feels his heckles rise at the mention of Hilde's name, but that is pretty dumb. Of course Treize knows her name. He just wrote out a five hundred thousand note to it.

"Yep," Duo says, doing his best to seem unbothered. "Good with my hands."

"I expected as much," Treize says, smiling as he looks Duo over again. "I hope it doesn't come as a surprise, but I did buy your contract with a goal in mind. I'm going to be counting on your help."

Help, Duo wonders. Help with what. Duo stitched, repaired engines, swept, scrubbed, and did general labor for Hilde. Outside of espionage, outside of breaking the _law_ , Duo doesn't know what Treize could need his specific help for that he couldn't hire any random body off the street. 

"The same sort of help you're gettin from Wufei?" Duo asks. 

"No," Treize says. "I'll be requiring your help _with_ Wufei, as a matter of fact."

This ominous sentence hangs over the rest of the ride to his home. 

This asshole can't actually imagine Duo would help mess with Wufei's head, right? It's stupid to assume, but Duo's learned that rich people assume a whole lot of stupid shit, and the possibility seems more likely as they walk up the steps of his mansion. Six years seems about right, when a man might get bored of toying with a prisoner. Wanting to add a little spice. 

_The seven year itch._

As soon as they cross the threshold into Treize's shamelessly huge mansion, one maid steps forward to help with Treize's belongings and jacket, and another releases bounds on Duo's hands, and a third locks the door behind them.

"Before we do anything else, I imagine you'd like to settle in," Treize says, taking off his jacket. "I'll have someone escort you to your new room, and we can meet again in the evening for dinner, then go over – "

"Actually, nah," Duo says, rubbing his wrists. "Hows about we go over it now?"

Treize's smile goes thin and long. _The kind of man who likes to hear himself talk,_ Duo thinks, watching him struggle to take the interruption with good humor. A controlling man. Doesn't like to have his plans switched around, Duo bets. Duo bets he had a whole monologue planned for their meal, probably matched up the meat with the wine based on it, too.

"Very well," he says, with a slight nod. "Follow me."

He leads Duo up a flight of dramatic, sprawling stairs, down a large, carpeted hall. There's a second set of stairs, more private, and Duo knows this is going toward the bedrooms. Where a man with a family would keep them. Perhaps where a controlling, delusional asshole would keep his prisoner.

"I'm – for lack of a better term, hiring you as Wufei's valet."

" _What?_ " Duo busts out laughing before can coach it down.

Unlike the interruption before, Treize seems amused by this. "Mm. It's long overdue. Given the nature of his – well. Given his nature, and the delicacy of this situation, unfortunately I've been taking on the task myself. This isn't practical, as you can imagine."

"Uh, yeah," Duo says. "What's a valet?"

All he can picture is cartoon characters. A smarmy man in a black suit and tie going _nnnyes, sir_ in a snobby British accent. Wait, was Alfred a valet? No, Alfred was a butler. What's a valet?

"A valet is a personal attendant," Treize says. They're walking down a hall with massive, double doors, which must be the guest bedrooms. "Essentially they're responsible the personal belongings and appearance of their employer. Often times – when their charge is a child, usually – there's a degree of responsibility involved. Keeping an eye out, so to speak. Guiding their activities and behavior. This is ideally what I would have you do for Wufei."

This sounds close to what Duo had assumed. He's handing the handle of Wufei's leash over to Duo, probably for a mindfuck. Boy, is he going to regret this. 

Duo nods along like it's cool, though. Yeah, that's reasonable. 

"Here is his room. You will be sleeping directly across," Treize says, gesturing to the double doors on the opposite side. "And my own rooms are down the hall. Right where we went left, before."

"Right," Duo says. 

Treize opens the doors, and Duo actually has to blink from the sudden swamp of _white._

"As you get more accustomed to your role, you will have some leniency, but there are some rules that will not change," Treize says. "He wakes every morning at eight. He is not allowed to leave his bed a moment before. If required, you will assist him in dressing. For now his outfits will continue to be selected by me, but soon you'll take that on yourself."

Duo just stares. The bed is massive. The closet is massive. Everything is done in white, white, white, ivory bedposts, white marble floors, with soft white carpeting, white curtains, a white lounger. Even the bedside stand, trimmed in ivory, then white. Not even an accent color.

"And this is integral. Do not forget," Treize says, voice going firm and serious, and Duo is immediately on guard, waiting to hear instructions on whatever safety measures they have on the room, in Wufei, to keep him compliant – drugs, tracking devices – something that needs to be monitored daily. "Wufei is not to walk on any hardwood floors without shoes."

… Shoes. 

Duo narrows his eyes, then looks back to the layout of the room. The bed is surrounded by a rug, but around that is the marble on all sides. Assuming his shoes are not kept under the bed, and they're not, Duo can see it… 

He's never heard of any sort of alarm being set off by bare feet?

"It's simply because after the treatments his skin is quite sensitive and the floor is quite cold," Treize says, apparently reading his confusion. 

"Skin treatments?" Duo repeats that cryptic thing, unable to stop himself. 

"Mm," Treize agrees, lightly. "Oh, slippers will work, as well."

"You want him to wait here every morning until someone brings him shoes or slippers?"

"Waiting should never enter the equation," Treize says. "Wufei should be awake at eight. You will be awake at whatever time you need to be to make that happen."

Duo says nothing. _This man,_ he realizes, on a whole new level. _Is insane._

"Now, after dressing, you may escort him to the garden, where he'll select his flower for the day," Treize says. 

"His _flower_ for the day," Duo repeats, and this would be the hilarious intricacies of a mad man, but the fact that he actually has to make sense of it, and abide by it, makes it a lot less funny. "What?"

"Five different species of roses grow in my garden, along with peonies, magnolias – once he insisted on lotus, I believe to be difficult, but a pond was dug into back portion of the garden, and he can select one of those, if he likes," Treize says. If he hears the disbelief and mockery in Duo's voice, it does not appear to bother him. "His allowances for the day depend on his flower selection. You will escort him with his flower to me, and I will judge his selection and decide what sort of permissions he's granted for the day. This, also, will be your discretion eventually, and – oh. Yes?"

"Sorry sir," a soldier says. He looks over the room from the doorway, but clearly does not dare to enter. He waits, politely, in the hall. 

"Pardon me," Treize says, then encourages Duo to familiarize himself with the space, stepping away. 

The doors close with a heavy, pointed thunk, trapping Duo inside, a sensation Wufei has apparently experienced every single day for the past six years. 

Staring at those white doors. White knobs. There, connecting the handles to the door, what Duo thinks is the first sight of silver – but when he gets closer he sees it was only the light reflecting off them oddly. The metal here is ivory, too.

Slowly, Duo walks across the room. He opens a closet door and sees, to his surprise, some color.

It's overwhelmed by the insane amount of white, gauzy, silky, soft fabric, but he sees there is some touch of gold. Pretty pastels, soft pinks, yellows, greens.

It's the sort of wardrobe a senile grandmother would buy for a newborn granddaughter. 

Duo closes the closet, and opens a drawer, and immediately feels his face heat, revealing row after row of tiny, neat, white panties. Beside that are carefully folded and rolled up stockings and tights, knee high socks. 

He closes it immediately, then stops. Pulls it back out. 

Is Wufei really this small?

Quatre and Heero are pretty small, too, Duo guesses, looking down at the variety of cuts, fabrics. All very girlish, none of the daring or seductive things he's peeled off partners in the past. Duo could not fit into these, not even as a joke. They'd rip on his thighs if he forced it. He tries to imagine the fit on Heero. His ass is too round, he thinks. Too much junk in the trunk. It'd be a tight squeeze. Possibly skinny little Quatre. 

After another second he realizes how long he's been staring down at this scandalous drawer, trying to visualize the body that slips into these panties, no doubt _tailored_ , and closes it. 

The drawer below that is hair pieces. Shiny decorations. Here is the most color Duo's seen in the room yet, mostly pastels but a few deeper, bolder colors, blood red, dark green. A black headband.

From there he goes to the attached bathroom. Again, nothing but white, and at this point it's becoming comical because Treize clearly had to go to some effort for this. 

He gets some amusement as he picks through the cabinet: white toothpaste, white toothbrush, white comb, white hairbrush with white tongs. Seriously, how long did that take? Was it custom made? He probably had help do it, but imagining Treize researching and placing special orders for this is hilarious. 

For a moment Duo imagines a scenario where Treize doesn't even like the scent of coconut or vanilla, but suffers through them, because it's easiest option available when you're restricted to white shampoos and conditioners. This joke is ruined when he gets to the bathtub and sees it's actually white, solid jars that the lotions and soaps are dumped into. Whatever color, inside the jars they won't ruin the aesthetic of the room. 

Out of curiosity, he picks up the shampoo jar and sniffs. Chamomile. He can't think of anything less-Wufei. He can't imagine Wufei smelling like this, he can't imagine Wufei sleeping in that _bed_.

"Mister Maxwell?" Treize asks, opening the doors. Duo quickly sets the shampoo down, heading back into the bedroom. 

" _Yo_."

Treize smiles again. "Let's continue."

Treize takes Duo down the stairs, to the dining halls. "Wufei has a strict diet, but this should be taken care of by the kitchen staff. Generally you should trust their judgment, but do bring it to my attention if you notice any red flags."

"What, too many carbs?"

Treize laughs out loud, and it appears to be genuine. "Carbs shouldn't be a problem. Proteins, too much meat."

"Don't want our catamite to lose his boyish figure, eh?"

Treize stops. "I can assure you, Mister Maxwell," he says, voice as serious as it was when he talked about _shoes_. "There is no sexual element to my relationship with Wufei."

Fucking bullshit, Duo doesn't say it, but he thinks it, like with everything in him. 

Treize smirks at his reaction. "I won't lie, my intentions were sexual at first," he says. "But, no. He doesn't service me in that fashion."

"So what _fashion_ are his services now?"

"Simple... companionship."

"And you just changed your mind out the goodness of your heart?"

"The boy thought I was going to kill him," he says, warmly, as though this is a fond memory. "When he realized that I had other... plans for him, he thought it would be manual labor. The thought did not enter his head. It was then I realized he was far more valuable that I had anticipated."

Duo can feel his face creasing in disgust. Treize is lying. Everything about his relationship with Wufei is sexual, even if they're not fucking. Duo grew up with a priest and a nun. He knows what it looks like when people fetishize purity, maybe has a little bit – just a little – of the same in him, there's no other way to explain that virginal white shrine he's built to Wufei upstairs. 

This is confirmed when they go out to the gardens Duo is supposed to escort Wufei to every morning. As expected, nearly every flower is white, or near white, with speckles of pinks in the center. Duo doesn't know enough about flowers to tell what's what outside of the roses, though.

"As I was saying earlier," Treize says. "I try to encourage him to pick the biggest, healthiest flowers. They're so striking against his hair – his features." 

He stops, looking down at a tightly wrapped, tiny little bud of a flower below its big brother, petals still hugged tightly around its center. Treize runs his thumb across one of the petals. 

"Though I've always found buds so much more attractive than the ones in full bloom…" he murmurs.

 _Big fucking surprise,_ Duo thinks, rolling his eyes.

Wufei's days are scheduled down to the minute, and free time is afforded with good behavior, and pretty flowers. Free time for Wufei essentially amounts to time in the library, though he's free to pursue any of the activities available in Treize's home.

"No sparring, of course," Treize says. "Though that hardly needs to be said, I imagine."

Now, that is a little odd. Duo knows their whole thing – Treize's whole interest in Wufei started over his ability to fight. He would've thought that was a bonus, but he's not sure how to ask. Later – he thinks, vaguely. He'll find out later.

Treize gestures out toward the yard where the stables are, and where Wufei has his riding lessons. He shows him to the study where Wufei can lay down some _embroidery_ or paint, the hall where he can play musical instruments, whatever, Duo lost interest in all the ones Treize listed, and where has singing and dancing lessons. Duo's covering his mouth by the end of this, nodding along quickly. Dancing and singing and playing the harp, embroidering doilies and napkins, painting some still life and quietly reading, fucking wow. Treize has gone 100% into this – weird ass rich man fantasy. It's not even like Wufei is his child bride, he's like his – just _child_.

Duo just straight up cannot imagine Wufei going along with any of this. But – of all of them, Wufei had the fewest choices about it. Trowa, Quatre, Duo, and Heero – all of them, if they put their foot down, could push their keepers if they went too far. Wufei did not have that option, and it's been six years. Anything can bend with a steady enough pressure over that amount of time... 

"So when do I actually see Wufei?" he asks. 

"This evening at dinner," Treize says. "And I believe that's everything. If now is an agreeable time for you to settle in…?"

"Yeah," Duo says, and gives a salute. "Sounds great, boss."

Duo heads back up the stairs to his new room, without an escort and without, as far as he can tell, extensive monitoring. 

He's marveling at Treize's idiocy, and arrogance, to hand the keys over to the inmates like he is, but as Duo climbs, and attempts to formulate his next step, he realizes… there's not much Treize is risking.

What is Duo going to do, escape with Wufei? There's only four years left in their sentence. To make an escape now, so close to unconditional freedom, would be one of the dumbest possible moves they could make, set themselves up for a lifetime of being wanted, probably caught, and sentenced to something even worse. Especially considering the fact that Wufei does not appear to be in danger, here. It's just a fucked up, weirdo fantasy that Treize is probably jerking off to as he watches the security footage of Wufei fucking sleeping at night in his virginal white room in his virginal white panties.

Rationally this is something _Duo_ could tolerate, even with good humor at times. He's not sure how stiff backed, proud, raging Wufei managed this long, it's something he'd never imagined Wufei would go along with, not even for a _minute_ , let alone four years, but apparently Treize got him through six.

The best play here, Duo realizes, is to just nod along, and undercut Treize whenever he can. And yeah, when it's all said and done, Wufei will probably never welcome Duo's presence again, he'll probably be too humiliated to be in the same room, might even blame him for some of this, and that sucks, but. There's worse. There's way worse. 

Treize could have gotten bored and decided to escalate rather than just invite a new player into the game. He could've decided to sell Wufei off to the ESUN. 

Duo's settled into a tentative, _this is fucking weird, but okay_ mindset, as he comes down for dinner that night, dressed in the outfit provided to him by the maid, a simple suit in his general size. It fits, but she assured him they'll get something proper, tailored, before the end of the week. Thank god, right?

Stepping into the dinning hall, he's lead to his seat like he's a guest, not a butler. Or, _valet_. 

Treize and Wufei are at the table, and they both look up at Duo's entrance. 

Wufei looks irritated – but only mildly. He must have been warned that Duo would be arriving, and turns his attention back to his plate. Beside him, at the head of the table, Treize grins and raises a cup to Duo as he takes a seat. 

"Just in time," he says. "The meal's about to be served. I'll have Ernst come around again with the wine."

"Thanks," Duo says, gaze dropping back over to Wufei. 

He is wearing, of course, white. It's a mimicry of a formal suit, a fitted top wrapped tight around his tiny middle, with heavy buttons going up the side. A high collar. Long sleeves that almost cover his hand completely, only his fingers visible as he carefully sips his tea, holding the cup with both hands. 

It suits him. Very well. So well, Duo can't really pretend otherwise, even if he wanted to. He looks fucking – like some kind of fantasy prince, a companion to a little princess doll, he looks precious and pretty, high cheekbones, huge dark eyes, hair much, much longer and pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail. 

"As I was saying," Treize says, but his voice is a dull murmur as Duo looks Wufei over. He's telling Wufei about what they covered today, that Duo will be assisting him, with whatever, for however long. Wufei listens to Treize speak with a dark, annoyed expression. 

It is clear, Wufei knows that what he's wearing is embarrassing. He looks annoyed by it, and annoyed by Treize for making him wear it. He looks annoyed at Duo, sitting across from him, for getting involved. But Duo is good at reading people and he knows. He can tell. Wufei does not understand that he looks _pretty_.

Struggling to endure this humiliation with as much pride as he can muster, Wufei sits with his back straight and eats his meals with careful, dignified grace. 

He has no idea. Duo feels his body reacting, because – this is not an act, Wufei isn't _capable_ of this kind of performance, he no clue about the interest and lust his stirring up with his careful little movements, in his sweet little outfit, his dainty little bites, his little socked feet, with little curling toes. 

_He has no idea_ , which Duo knew, that was the whole – point. That's the whole reason Treize is doing this, but seeing it – in Wufei's mind, this is probably a battle of control and dignity, which he is fighting for every day and winning some, and losing some. 

The undercurrent, that he is consistently and quite completely _lost_ , that he's _feeding into_ with his prim and proper nature, the thing that has both Duo and Treize watching, is beyond him. 

Treize takes a long sip of his drink with a dark, pleased look on his face as he locks eyes with Duo. He could tell. This whole day, he knew Duo was laughing at him. He also, _clearly_ , knew that he would get the last laugh. 

But this doesn't change anything. 

Not a thing.

Duo thinks about that as he goes to bed that night.

Then he remembers the drawer. With the panties. And the stockings, and the knee high socks, and the fact that he'll be rolling pale white fabric up Wufei's pointed foot, and long, thin leg, while Wufei scowls and endures it, oblivious to Duo's lust, so fucking innocent, and feels arousal so intense it makes his finger tips and cock throb, and he ends up working his dick, quick and furious and embarrassed at his lack of control, but holy _shit._

Holy shit.


	2. Chapter Two

Li Di was the sixth daughter of her father, the youngest wife of her husband, and it was something of a joke that such a flighty, impish woman gave birth to serious, studious Wufei. 

Wufei has very few memories of Li Di to speak of, himself. 

Motherhood did not suit her, she had little patience or interest in it, and he was usually left under the care of an aunt, or one of his father's higher wives. Then came schooling, and then came training, and he was rarely home at all. And then came the war, and there was no home, no aunts or wives or fathers or mothers. 

Wufei takes firm control of his thoughts, directing them elsewhere. The memories he does possess of his mother are nice enough. Warm. She was quick to laugh and often teased her son for his serious demeanor. She enjoyed reading to him, setting him between her legs, resting her chin on the top of his head and reading out loud children's stories that Wufei had mastered years before. Not that he would tell her so.

She would pretend to struggle with some of the longer words, because she knew how important and clever Wufei felt when he helped – this was something he'd only figured out in retrospect, after the war. 

She was young, which was also something he realized in retrospect, barely sixteen when her son was born, and more of a sister than mother. Wufei probably would've resented her for that, if he'd been around her for more than a few stolen, golden moments. 

_"Ah, my smart boy," she would say when he corrected her mistakes, smiling so proud, ruffling his hair._

In fact, the only time he can remember her ever sounding like a mother is when Master O sent the formal invitation for Wufei to pilot Nataku.

"Not _my son!_ " Li Di had yelled at her husband, but she'd given up her claim on Wufei years before, and they all knew it.

Wufei hadn't wanted it. 

Hadn't wanted to fight. 

Meilan had seen this as ungrateful and spoiled and weak. 

Does she see irony in Wufei's situation now? 

Wufei stares down at the sticks that make up his body. Wufei has been malnourished in the past, but always had the hard edges of strong, coiled, hardened muscle giving his body definition, shape. Even when struggling to eat, when keeping up his energy was a matter of carefully rationing out his portions against his sleep, Wufei had refused to allow his body to shrivel. He knew what it was capable of, and never gave it any mercy, forcing it to keep pace with his strict, disciplined routine. 

Now, he's been melted down to pale, weak limbs in the tub of milk. 

Wufei had never been proud of his scars, but they told a story of his life in a tangible way, something he could reach out and touch. A landmark of his people, when everything else was taken from him in fire.

But those, too, have been melted clean away from his flesh. 

His body has become that of a soggy, soft worm. 

He's sure this is how Meilan perceived him, and now it's the body he's chosen. The embodiment of the disgusting, sniveling coward he outgrew years ago.

"You done in there, pal?"

Wufei slowly lifts his gaze through the curtain of his ridiculous hair. 

Maxwell's crossing his arms, leaning in the doorway. 

Wufei holds out his hand, and Maxwell tosses him a towel. 

He stands, annoyed by the weight of his hair, which hasn't been a near a blade in six years. It's well beyond the small of his back, and bathwater pours from it in thick streams. 

"Yikes," Maxwell says, watching him wring it out, then tie it up. "Maybe let it dry before putting it up?"

If anyone would know it would be Maxwell, but Wufei ignores this, wrapping the towel around himself, walking past him toward the bedroom, and stepping into the slippers along the way is thoughtless habit, now. 

His outfit for the coming day has been laid out for him, and once he reaches the rug circling his bed, he steps out of the slippers, drops the towel, and begins pulling them on, layer by tedious layer. They're of the same childish, girlish design as the rest of Wufei's current existence. 

"Wow. So you just," Maxwell is saying. Wufei looks over from between his raised arms, where the tight, restrictive fabric of his undershirt is sliding over his head. "Just put it on. Really imagined you'd put up more of a fight."

Wufei doesn't react to this, simply returning his attention to dressing, because the burn of Maxwell's judgment is a mild, easily ignorable thing compared to the ever-present stares of his ancestors. 

"That's quite the get up," Maxwell says from behind his shoulder, as Wufei starts pulling on the second layer. Maxwell isn't wrong. It is quite the get-up. Far more complicated than usual.

"Guests are coming today," Wufei says. 

"Oh," Maxwell says, and seems surprised that Wufei spoke at all.

Wufei sighs internally when he reaches the undercoat. Typically, Treize steps forward at this time and assists without prompting. A sour, bitter taste pools in Wufei's mouth as he realizes he will have to resort to Maxwell.

"Hold this in place," he instructs, shortly, after wrapping it around his middle. 

"What?" Maxwell says, intelligently, but comes over and does as asked before Wufei is forced to repeat the request. The press of Maxwell's hands is a humiliating burn. Maxwell has large, calloused hands. The hands of a man. Wufei can feel the worn skin even through his underthings. They would leave scratches against Wufei's puddy-like skin. 

Scowling deeply, Wufei hurries to tighten the strap, yanking cruelly, and remove Maxwell's touch from his waist. 

"Let go now," he says, curtly, once he's finished. 

Maxwell pauses a beat before doing so, then takes a few steps back to where he'd been watching, like the spectator at a horror film, near the bathroom door. Wufei gives him a short, unimpressed look, and finishes dressing. It's a strange thing to be doing this on his own. Treize has made quite a show of assisting with so many pieces, so consistently that Wufei allowed a belt to simply drop to the floor, expecting Treize to finish the job of tightening it. 

Obviously Wufei can get dressed on his own, but he can feel his hair starting to lose its form in the sloppy knot on his head as he moves, and knows he'll need some kind of assistance with that. A slicked back ponytail, as he prefers, and will usually please Treize, will not cut it for today's guests.

With a scowl, Wufei yanks the hairband out, and feels it tumble down his back.

"Do something with it," he says, shortly. 

"Do – something? Me?" Maxwell asks. 

Wufei nearly bears his teeth at him. "Who else?"

Maxwell mutters something under his breath, then goes to the bathroom to retrieve a comb. "Scale of one to ten, how big do you want to go here?"

"Ten."

Maxwell pauses in brushing Wufei's hair down. 

"Seriously? So you actually – care about Treize's guests?"

Wufei glares at his own reflection. "Deeply."

~

The guests coming today are officers and politicians Gundam pilot 05 would've given his teeth and fingers to have in one room. Targets that would've been safely kept away from him at all costs.

As Treize's worm, Wufei is invited in enthusiastically. Expected, even, regardless of his own personal feelings about it. The weaker he appears, the more they delight in his presence. The more they welcome it. Request it. 

Today's gathering is a local celebration, so the majority of the guests are locals, the nameless elite in this small pond. But as always, Treize's closest friends are invited. OZ's ambassador to L5. Her husband, and her assistant, who is now captain. Admiral Caye, who was promoted due to his ingenuity on the field during the attack on A0206. Wufei read the reports of the incident in Treize's library, along with the rest of Caye's military career.

Most of the room is filled with the idle talk of the town itself, local and mundane gossip. A surprise proposal, the upcoming marriage. A politician caught with hired companionship, while his wife refuses to acknowledge it. So on.

Toward the outskirts of the party are the conversations Wufei actually intends to overhear. No one looks twice as he drifts in that direction, outside of amusement, a few stares of muted disgust, but Wufei's role as Treize's pet is so well established that last year when an OZ veteran had attempted to attack Wufei, the mayor himself had thrown wine in the soldier's face and he'd been escorted out until he could calm down. 

The veteran never returned.

"Surely enough time has passed that we can admit some mistakes were made," Ambassador Meiden says.

"Some," says Caye. "But it was easily outweighed by the good. War brings progress."

"Long Clan had been exiled anyway," says a third man, a low ranking officer attempting to grow a mustache and only partially succeeding. "That colony was basically just a floating prison. The loss of life is unfortunate, but where were they headed? Realistically?"

 _Headed_. It's not anger washing over Wufei. It's a detached, lightheaded feeling, as though becoming physically removed form his body and his reactions, allowing him to only blink calmly. 

"Were they producing anything? Were they making the universe a better place with their existence? They were just perpetuating the same behavior that got them exiled to begin with."

"Unfortunate about the children, of course… "

"The cost of war is high for everyone involved," says Meiden, holding the wine glass, wearing a pant suit, taking a brief reprieve from her own mansion to visit her friend's mansion, while her children study in safe, private schools, healthy and strong.

"Ah, but enough of that ugly talk," smiles Caye when he sees Wufei standing there. The rest of the crowd follows his gaze and parts for Wufei to enter their circle. Wufei takes the step inside. "Still a wonder to believe such a creature was involved any of that ugly business… If I hadn't seen it myself I'd swear Treize got his hands on the wrong Long Clan Heir."

Polite laughter and soft compliments fill the circle. Wufei holds his drink, and keeps his expression blank. He's learned this can pass for passive and mild, which is pleasing for this audience in particular.

"Tell me, young one, what have you been up to lately? We need some lighthearted conversation today," says an older officer, looking Wufei up and down.

"I've finished Horst's _Weiss Traum_ – "

"Wufei, don't be so modest," Treize says. "In between his devoted reading schedule, Wufei somehow found the time to master a Yiruma classic, _Minnir_."

A delighted murmur. It's immediately insisted that Wufei simply _must_ play it for them, so Wufei sits at a piano and watches his pale, sickly fingers move across the keys. Wufei has never had a gift for music. The thing he produces is slow, and clumsy, but he knows as well as anyone else that the true performance here isn't in his skill. It's Treize's pet, rolling to bare its stomach when it hears the call to play dead. 

He does an exceptionally good job of this, and this is why they clap when he finishes, smug smiles curling up their faces, into their cheeks, gazing on OZ's greatest victory: the domestication of a Gundam pilot.


End file.
